


When Meeting Your Exes... Don't Be Stupid (A Guide)

by WritingMage



Category: Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M, Implied Elsa (Disney)/Jack Frost (Rise of the Guardians), Jelsa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:00:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7261306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingMage/pseuds/WritingMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, he's an idiot. Which is why when Jack meets his ex and accidentally blurts the biggest lie that he’s ever told, Jack knows that he needs Elsa to pull this lie off without a hitch.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stupidity: How It Begins (Avoid These Kinds of Situations If At All Possible)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just the interpretation and the plot. If you wonder where this idea came from, read the note.

After knowing Elsa for five years, there are three things that Jack knows about her:

  1. Elsa White, despite her cold formality, stunning punctuality, and impeccable manners, has a strange meld of humor and wit that is wicked sharp.
  2. Though intimidatingly serious, Elsa White loves to pull (Well, not pull, per say. Elsa is too graceful to pull anything) pranks, and she is good at it. So good, in fact, that it is scary. Last time she’d played a prank on him, Jack had thought he was gay. Not his brightest moment, but, whatever. The point is: Elsa is good.
  3. When she acts, Elsa is blinding.



 

Which is why when Jack meets his ex and accidentally blurts the biggest lie that he’s ever told, Jack knows that he needs Elsa to pull this lie off without a hitch.

 

But really, the reason for the lie is so strange, so infantile that Jack muffles a curse beneath his breath when his ex finally waves goodbye and says, “Okay, Jack! Can’t wait to have you and your fiancé over for dinner next week!”

 

The lie started in the grocery store while Jack was waiting in line with his box of granola bars and mini-packets of Lucky Charm Cereal. Somewhere in the corner of his eyes, Jack catches a flash of green hair and turquoise-violet highlights, and his heart freezes over. Because, really, who else but Toothiana Greene would have green and purple hair? After he pays, Jack pulls his hoodie high over his head and bolts into the rain.

 

And for a moment, Jack thinks that he has escaped, but then, chasing behind him, he hears Toothiana.

 

“Jack Frost!”

 

For a moment, Jack is blinded by the petite figure, blinded by improbability of it all. Meeting his once friend/friend/lover after five years and a nasty break-up in a small convenience store in a small college town three hundred miles away from New York. It seems like too much.

 

“Oh my god,” Toothiana gasps, “Look at you! You look so different! How’ve you been?”

 

It is too much.

 

Toothiana is not only friendly but happy, and she isn’t spitting out her words in snarling anger. Maybe she got amnesia?

 

“Um,” Jack flounders for a moment. What should he say? Is there some sort of guideline for talking to exes? Because if there is some sort of guideline, some book, Jack could really use it right now. “I’m doing fine. Finishing my masters.”

 

Toothiana’s eyes widen, and then, of course, she offers that bright smile of hers, the one that had helped push him over the edge of falling in love with her. But suddenly, the brightness of her smile is overshadowed by the brightness of the ring on her right finger.

 

“You’re getting married.”

 

And if possible, Toothiana’s thousand-watt smile turns a million times brighter. “Yes, to Aster Bowman. We went to college with him before you transferred.

 

“Yeah, I’m also getting married.” The words slip past his chapped lips before he can even register them, much less stop them, and looking back, Jack thinks that this was a subtle way of trying to prove to himself that he is really, truly over their break-up.

 

As if.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Posting Date: June 20, 2016
> 
> Prompt: N/A
> 
> Word Count: 534
> 
> Note: This is just a short piece of whimsy, something inspired by fake engagements and "Dedicated" by Therentyoupay, an author whose portrayal of Jack and Elsa might just be my favorite. Feedback and suggestions are appreciated. If any of you would like to offer a prompt and possibly inspire a chapter, feel free to send me a note. But just to be clear, this well hopefully be an extremely short story that will end (hopefully) very soon.


	2. "Really" You Know You Were Stupid When Even Your Best Friend Asks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just the interpretation and the plot.

 

Looking up, Jack answers Anna's unspoken question. "I told her that I was getting married too."

 

In the sudden silence, Jack stares deeply inside the psychology textbook, as though it will somehow by some miracle of the universe have the answers. But of course, between the lines of words about Alexithymia and Akathasia, there is no explanation for the psychological phenomenon of stupidity.

 

"Jack," Anna shakes her head and quirks her strawberry eyebrows. "Really, Jack! Why?"

 

Taking a dejected bite of his Lucky Charms, Jack shrugs.

 

Anna plucks her psychology book from Jack's twiddling fingers and shrugs out of her pink, plush unicorn and clown fish robe before reaching for a bowl and her favorite mug from their sparse cupboards. Scooping in a hefty amount of strawberry ice cream, she licks her spoon in contemplation after putting back the vat of strawberry cold back into the freezer. Her blue eyes light with sudden epiphany.

 

"Start over from the beginning."

 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Jack leans away from the gleam in her eyes, the diabolical plan already forming within the deep recesses of her mind. Jack has known Anna for long enough to know what this all means. Five years as both best friend and roommate is enough to have taught him how to interpret all the signs: the strawberry ice cream, the favorite mug, the glasses that balance delicately over the bridge of freckles on Anna's nose. The last time Anna showed these signs was the day before she got kicked out of a club for breaking her ex's nose.

 

Jack knows the inherent danger of a plotting Anna White.

 

Settling comfortably on their flower-print couch, Anna pushes back her tortoise-shell glasses once more before repeating, "From the beginning."

 

"She was at the grocery, and I panicked." Jack shrugs again. Really, what more explanation does Anna need?

 

Anna shoots him that look with both eyebrows raised, and her implicit censure, her implicit _Jack, don't be a pansy. Just tell me._

 

Cringing, Jack looks down at the bowl Anna dropped in his lap. Opening his mouth, Jack starts to say something before changing his mind. Really, how can he with any pride or dignity for that matter say, _"Yeah, you see, Anna, seeing the girlfriend that wasn't actually my girlfriend and was actually something closer to the fiancé that left me at the aisle…"_

 

But of course, in the likely case that Anna will somehow wheedle out the truth, Jack can very easily defend himself with a, _"Well, Anna, if you couldn't take Hans your two-month boyfriend leered at some girl"_ , and Jack would let the conversation stop there, though to himself he might think, _"let's just say it's ten times worse when your_ fiancé _leaves you at the altar."_

 

But, that conversation is only a possibility. One that Jack fervently prays in his minute-and-a-half of ice cream gobbling craze will never happen.

 

Probably.

 

Hopefully.

 

And just as Jack weighs the likelihood of that conversation actually happening and what counter-measures will make that possible future least likely..., Anna flicks his head with all the force of her pinky and thumb.

 

"Stop getting lost in your head so much. Just tell me all of the grocery fiasco."

 

So Jack takes the best calculated risk, the one least likely to reveal the almost-marriage. He tells a limited truth about the nasty break-up and how that, in part, led him to his move to the other end of a country. Which means, the improbability of meeting Toothiana in Palo Alto is astronomically higher, because Jack isn't a measly 300 miles away from New York. He's 2,441 miles away.

 

For a moment, the probability, the numbers, the sheer impossibility of it floors him. And then, Jack scurries up from his seat on the couch and into his room.

 

His thesis is due today.

 

"Cobordism," Jack curses as he pulls out his most respectable sweater (the only sweater or clothing, really, if Jack is being completely honest, that doesn't have some sort of unidentified stain or day old smell of poor college student).

 

But, Jack debates to himself, it isn't just poor college student smell; it's poor graduate student smell. And maybe that makes the smell and stains a modicum more understandable. Because how can he be expected to look alright and smell alright and work alright _and_ pay his bills? And all this after a 4 year bachelors and two years into his masters, which is really on its way to becoming a PhD.

 

And once more, as he races into Professor Kasey's room, Jack mutters a harsh, "Cobordism."

 

* * *

 

When Jack gets back from his near-failing, Anna corners him and forces the issue until Jack finally relents. It shouldn't be too much of an issue. Anna is a good girl, a little on the weird and occasionally disgusting, and really, they've been friends for years. What harm will confiding and discussing the limited truth do?

 

He finds out later, on his third bowl of five scoops of strawberry ice cream when he has both an aching stomach and an aching pride. Though Jack secretly almost cheers himself up, because he knows with absolute certainty that at least no one knows about the almost-marriage, even nosy, know-it-all Anna. But still.

 

"You aren't making me feel better."

 

And really, Anna isn't. She's holding her favorite mug filled to the brim with ice cream and chortling. Between her gasping breathes, Anna murmurs something about pranks and stupidity and men.

 

"Well," Anna huffs, "How can I? That was really stupid."

 

"I'm not the only one whose done something stupid when seeing an old ex," Jack says pointedly.

 

Anna opens her mouth and struggles to say anything before finally conceding, "Fine…" Then, Anna nose scrunches up and her freckles multiply into a thousand crinkles. "But really, why would you say that of all things. If you wanted to prove that you were over her, you could have said something else…" She trails off and mutters something indistinct about "girlfriends."

 

But then, Anna plops onto the couch beside him and her teeth gleam in her mischievous smile. "So what are we going to do?"

 

"I think that I am going to find a great actress to play the part of the fiancé, probably your sister."

 

Sputtering shock, Anna quiets before turning to look at Jack. "Are you crazy?"

 

Maybe. Just maybe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Posting Date: June 22, 2016
> 
> Prompt: N/A
> 
> Word Count: 1060
> 
> Note: Thanks to my first two reviewers in FFN and my first Kudos-giver here, mysticaljayne! Consider this early chapter a result of your kind words. But I am curious... Can anyone guess Jack's field of study? Or maybe Anna's? Though that one is pretty obvious... Can any of you guess the school? Feel free not to answer these questions. In any case, remember, I am completely open to any prompt suggestions. Hope you all enjoyed the longer chapter.


	3. Pretending to Have Confidence Doesn't Actually Mean You Have Confidence (Don't Confuse the Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just the interpretation and the plot. If you wonder where this idea came from, read the note.

 

When he finds Elsa, Jack feels that rough clamminess of his hands, and all his inadequacies are painfully obvious. His too long hair that's already showing his roots, his ink painted fingers, his distinct lack of coolness, especially when compared to Queen of the Theater, Elsa White. Not only is his clothing vaguely ratty at the edges, but Jack can smell the bitter scent of black coffee on his newly-stained hoodie.

 

“Elsa,” Jack yells, and she glances at him.

 

Her sudden twist towards him startles Jack. Especially when her uncannily blue eyes catch his grey ones. She stares at him a moment before finally leaving the bike racks.

 

Brisk, Jack jogs towards her, and when of flash of purple sings at the edges of his vision, Jack jumps out of his skin. And sudden sickening possiblities swirl through his head. Things like _maybe Toothiana is here on campus, maybe that guy Bow- no something Bunnyman  is here, or maybe Toothiana and her little beau are transferring here-_

 

Jack is dizzy with all the horrible possibilities. So much so that he trips across the dry cement and falls flat on his face. He hears the click of heels and the whisper of a swishing skirt. A moment of dreadful silence later, he hears, “Are you all right?”

 

As he dusts off the dirt and new smudges off his hoodie, he silently curses his pale skin and how dreadfully bright the warmth in his cheeks must be. “Hey, Elsa.”

 

Elsa gives a perfunctory nod and polite smile. “Hello, Jackson. Clumsy as always?”

 

Jack gives a wry smile, and his cheeks must be burning another hundred degrees by now. “Yeah. Elsa, would you mind giving me a minute. I need a favor.”

 

Blankly, Elsa cautiously gives him a moment to see if he’ll elaborate, and Jack almost squirms under the intensity of the Elsa’s blue-laser gaze. Then, Jack hears the engine combust and watches as their almost-not-awkward conversation plummets and crashes, conveniently burning in the obscure place of awkward silence. But Elsa is not in any way uncomfortable, and while she’s learned to thrive in silence and her artsy-brooding, Jack feels the silence sink out from his skin and crawl into his thundering heart.

 

“You see, well, I-.” Jack stumbles over his words painfully before pinching the bridge of his nose and giving himself a moment to find composure. Jack reminds himself that he is a reasonably attractive guy and a reasonable smart one too. He is a math major, after all, and Jack tries to remember his class in his freshman year of college. Mr. Allen, a short man with an enviably curly, hipster mustache, he would always say something about the best actors being the best liars.

 

_The pretense of confidence, Jackson, is what sells the act._

 

Pretense  of confidence, Jack thinks to himself, to pretend to be confident is to be confident. If he can successfully pretend to be confident, Elsa will buy the act. “There’s a prank I wanted to do. And to pull it off I need a favor.

 

Elsa blinks. “What favor?” And though there is still a cautious solemnity in the distance between them, Jack can sense Elsa budding interest. It lies in the small things: the tilt of her head, the slight part of her lips, and the burning brightness smoldering in her eyes.

 

“I met someone I used to know back in NYU, and we’d always joke about who was gonna get engaged first.” _Though the joke would always go just a tad differently. Toothiana would laugh and say, “Who knows, maybe I’ll be the one to propose.”_ But that is irrelevant, so Jack shrugs. “And I wanted to see the look on their face when I told them I was engaged.”

 

Elsa considers him, head cocked to the side. Her eyebrow raises ever so slowly. “Well, I haven’t done a good prank in a bit. Why don’t you tell me more about it over coffee?”

 

They chat as they walk towards the student store with the second-floor café, but as they walk, its mostly Jack’s voice that is heard.

 

Elsa settles into a chair, and with regal posture, takes a bite of her bran muffin. She chews ever so slowly, swallows, and dabs her lips with a napkin. “Jackson,” she chides, “You would be surprised how easy it is for theater majors to tell a truth from a lie. So why don’t you start with the truth this time,” Elsa leans forward and puts a hand under her chin as she studies him.

 

A mixture of shame and guilt and _dammit_ mix in Jack’s stomach. Deliberately, Jack looks into the aisles of books for sale across from him.

 

“Cobordism.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Posting Date: July 1, 2016
> 
> Prompt: N/A
> 
> Word Count: 786
> 
> Note: I haven't updated this story as much as I would like to. Other fandom caught me in their idea webs for awhile, but never fear, I'm back on this story. If I maintain my goal, I will finish this story up in a week or two. Hopefully.


End file.
